


Swing for the Fences

by Dee_Laundry



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Baseball as Metaphor, Gen, Humor, meet the parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-05
Updated: 2007-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not like that,” Wilson replied. “Chris is very mature for twenty-three.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swing for the Fences

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for excessive use of a metaphor. Thanks to [](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/profile)[**daisylily**](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/) for beta. There is a sequel to this fic: [The Closer (CL)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/160209).

Any old day, walking down a hospital corridor, and House was living vicariously through James Wilson again. Which was actually refreshing – House had found it depressing in those long, dreary months when Wilson’s life was as pathetic as House’s.

“Twenty-three, seriously?” House asked with a smirk. “You dog, you.”

“It’s not like that,” Wilson replied, tugging at the lapel of his lab coat. “Chris is very mature for twenty-three.”

“Very mature? Oh, you mean saggy breasts.” House stepped around Wilson as they turned a corner and almost missed Wilson’s eye roll.

“I mean well-read, culturally literate and interesting. With a very firm, um.” Wilson brought his hands to chest level.

 _Mmm._ “Now we’re talking. Perky nipples? What shade?” They had stopped next to the elevators in the lobby.

“Pink, and incredibly responsive.” Wilson closed his eyes as if imagining them. “One flick of the tongue and –”

Wilson’s eyes popped open. “No,” he continued, glaring at House’s leering grin. “I’m not talking about this here. Or ever.”

“How do you expect me to properly storyboard my sexual fantasies if you don’t give me enough detail to work with?” House aimed an “honestly concerned” face in Wilson’s direction.

Scandalized, in a way that tickled House to no end, Wilson replied, “You do not fantasize about me having sex.”

“Of course I don’t. I fantasize about me having sex with your partners while you watch and weep.”

The force of Wilson’s eye roll was enough to move mountains. “I have calls to return before rounds. You know, actual work? The thing you get paid to supposedly do?”

House scratched his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar.” He had a follow-up quip, but the elevator doors had already closed between him and Wilson.

House allowed himself a quick grin. He knew just how to weasel his way past Wilson’s defenses and get all the details he wanted – and despite those righteous protestations, House knew the man was secretly dying to share. This was going to be fun for the few weeks or months this frivolous little nursery pick-up lasted, and allusions to the cradle-robbing would embarrass Wilson and amuse House for years to come.

He was heading slowly toward Cuddy’s office, imagining the look on Wilson’s grandmother’s face at House “accidentally” letting it slip at a future holiday dinner, when his left side collided with a brick wall. Or, actually, a man walking the opposite way through the lobby.

“Watch where you’re going!” House snapped, rubbing his shoulder.

“You plowed into me!” the man retorted, and then stopped. “Wait a minute. Greg? Greg House?”

The note of familiarity in the voice was surprising, and House took a close look at the middle-aged man. “Who are – Don?”

Don snorted, and his face lit up. “You actually remember me? I thought people were beneath your notice, so I’m incredibly flattered.” He gestured to a nearby woman. “Susan, come here and meet Greg House. We went to college together.”

As the woman came closer, House nodded politely to her. Most of the people House had gone to college with – or, you know, had ever met – were idiots, but Don had been all right. Not terribly stupid, not easily offended, and generous with sharing both pot and booze. He looked older now, fatter and more wrinkled, but he was as comfortable in his skin as ever.

Susan didn’t offer to shake House’s hand, just nodded back with a quiet smile, and that moved her up a notch in House’s book, too.

“He was a great musician,” Don continued, draping an arm around his wife. “Do you still play?”

House shook his head. “Just for myself. I work here; I’m a doctor.”

Nodding, Don replied, “Makes sense. You always were smart as hell. I went into insurance – boring, so boring, but it pays the bills. We live in Maryland now, but our son’s going to Princeton.”

“Medical school?” House asked. Cuddy had manipulated him into speaking to a huge batch of med students last week, and quite a few had left the room in tears. If Don’s kid turned out to be one of them, House was definitely going to leave before things got awkward.

Susan smiled. “No, he’s still an undergrad. Political science major, in fact. We’re just in the hospital today because he has a special friend he wanted to introduce us to who works here. A nurse, I think he said.”

“Maybe we’ll take the kids to lunch,” Don mused. “Your cafeteria here any good?”

“It’s –”

House was interrupted by the arrival of a dark-haired young man who was almost buzzing with eager energy; he reminded House of a border collie. “Mom! Dad! So, I thought Jay worked in Pediatrics but the surprisingly grumpy nurse in the Clinic said no, and that he actually works on the fourth floor. I want to find him before he heads to lunch, so I’ll take the stairs and you take the elevator, and I’ll meet you up there, OK? Fourth floor.” Susan and Don barely had time to nod before the boy was gone.

Don and Susan shared an amused look, and then Susan stepped toward the elevators and pushed the button.

“He’s a little excited,” Don noted.

“A little?” House walked with Don toward the elevators. “I could test him for amphetamines if you like.”

The elevator dinged, and Susan called, “It was nice to meet you, Greg,” as she stepped through the open doors.

“Actually, I work on the fourth floor, so I’ll ride up with you.”

During the short ride, House and Don talked about professors and students they’d both known. After emerging from the elevator, Don related a few entertaining anecdotes from the last reunion; House told the story of Crandall’s late-found daughter. They were standing in the hall in front of House’s office when Wilson came around the corner, talking into his cell phone.

“Yes, that was fun,” Wilson was saying, a smile playing around his lips. “This weekend we could – Today? No, it’s not a good idea for you to come by the hospital.”

Having reached them, Wilson put his hand over the phone and asked House quickly, “Can I grab the file for that patient we worked on together last week?”

House gestured him into his office as Wilson put the phone back to his ear. “Because I’m working, that’s why.”

Shrugging, House followed Wilson into his office with Don and Susan bringing up the rear. “So his daughter was alone in New Orleans?” Susan prompted.

“Yes, in an abandoned –”

The end of House’s sentence was run over by Wilson squawking, “You’re here?” He grabbed the patient file from House’s hand and flapped out of the room, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. “Now is not…”

Don and Susan watched him go and then turned back to House, questions clear in their eyes. House shrugged, but he couldn’t keep a smirk off his face. Wilson’s fun little fling on the side had apparently infiltrated the hospital. He couldn’t wait to see what the nurses were going to make of this. But Don and his wife couldn’t appreciate it, so House figured he might as well finish off the story of Crandall’s daughter.

A moment later, Susan interrupted him with a happy, “Oh!” He gave her a look and she continued, “Sorry. I saw our son and just want to make sure we don’t lose him again.” She opened the door to the conference room, where Wilson was talking to Don’s son, head bowed close.

“Of course I do,” Wilson was saying seriously. He and the young man looked up at the same time, Wilson with dawning alarm and the young man with delight.

House, of course, could see several steps ahead and knew exactly what was coming. This was good; this was dine-out-forever-on-the-gossip good. The arrival of Wilson’s assistant Melissa and two of his residents, there no doubt to take him to rounds, only increased the awesomeness. House hung back behind Don and Susan and didn’t bother to hide his grin from Wilson.

The boy’s grin was every bit as wide as he clung to Wilson’s arm, pressing possessively into Wilson’s side. “Mom, Dad,” he said proudly, and House could see every part of Wilson’s body clench. “This is my boyfriend!”

Bedlam arose, and House loved it.

“Dr. Wilson?” asked Melissa, sinking into a chair.

“Doctor?” the young man asked, not relinquishing his hold on Wilson’s arm.

Wilson opened his mouth to respond, and House took great delight in cutting him off. “This is Chris?” he asked – not that he didn’t already know; he only wanted to turn the pressure higher. He took Wilson’s glare as his reward.

“This is Jay?” asked Susan, her eyes wide.

“Jay?” House asked with a smirk.

“It’s a nickname, OK?” Wilson replied quickly, sullenly, before turning back to Chris and his parents.

“You didn’t tell me you were a doctor,” Chris said. “That’s so cool.”

Don looked like his blood pressure was going through the roof. “Do you know this guy, Greg?”

House shrugged. “Not quite as well as I thought I did, considering I was sure Chris was a girl.”

“Why would you think I was a girl?” Chris looked down at himself, as if expecting to see a dress or maybe a pair of breasts – _with responsive pink nipples_ , House’s brain reminded him. “Or –”

Chris turned to Wilson, who seemed to be trying to sink into the floor. “You told him you were dating a woman?”

“No, not exactly.” Wilson looked toward House for help, but House was too busy enjoying the show. “I was ambiguous about it.”

Face reddening, Don took a step toward Wilson. “My son deserves better than to be treated like a dirty little secret! What the hell are you doing, taking advantage of my boy?”

Chris looked like he was going to protest – and House desperately wished he had popcorn – but Wilson put on the face that had soothed a thousand irate family members of patients, and said calmly, “Sir, I can understand this may look strange, but your son’s twenty-three; he’s old enough –”

“He’s twenty-one! Still in college!” Don protested, and that threw Wilson for a loop.

“He’s what?” Wilson looked down and gently eased Chris off his arm. “You lied to me about your age?”

“Just a little,” Chris replied defensively. “It’s not that big a deal. I mean, Mom, Dad, he’s thirty-two. It’s not that much older –”

One of the residents coughed discreetly; House laughed outright. “Thirty-two? Try pushing forty.”

“Not helping, House,” Wilson gritted.

“Hey!” Chris said. “You lied to me about your age.”

“Technically,” Wilson said, ever the weasely diplomat, “I lied to your friends. You never asked me.”

“Still.” Now the moppet was pouting, and this was even better than the time Wilson got caught in his parents’ synagogue feeling up a girl during a service. House assumed it was better, anyway, given he hadn’t been there himself, but the stories from Nana had been excellent.

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” House said as he made his way to the mini-fridge for a water. “I’m sure you would’ve learned the truth before Wilson asked you to marry him.”

Targeted strike – mission accomplished. Susan clutched where her pearls would’ve been, had she been wearing any; Don’s face turned scarlet; Wilson’s assistant Melissa appeared to be choking. Wilson slouched slightly, looking hunted, as Chris’ eyes softened with naïve, romantic hope. “You’re going to ask me to marry you?”

“No!” Wilson shouted, and then looked guilty at Chris’ immediate deflation. “I mean,” he continued, more gently, “not that it couldn’t ever be a possibility, but we’ve only known each other two months.”

“You’d only known your first wife six weeks when you proposed to her,” House noted, sipping from his water bottle.

“Wife?” Chris squeaked, and moved closer to his mother, who put an arm around him.

“First wife?” demanded Don, looking back and forth between House and Wilson.

House nodded. “Number one of three.”

Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “Really not helping, House.”

“Now see here,” Don began, finger jabbing threateningly in Wilson’s direction.

Wilson took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and seemed to remember that he knew how to wield authority. “Excuse me, sir,” he interjected, cutting Don off with a placating hand.

He gestured to his residents and Melissa and then toward the door. “Please go get Stein and have him start rounds. I’ll be there as soon as I can. And I’ll trust you to keep the conversation to professional matters.” They nodded almost in unison and walked out of the room, Wilson’s assistant sniffling a little.

With a nod, Wilson turned back toward Chris and his parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, I can see why you might have been surprised to meet me, and I have to say I’m surprised as well. Unfortunately, I have commitments today that preclude us from discussing this in more depth and getting to know each other better. Would you be available for dinner tonight, my treat?”

Assertiveness apparently did something for Chris, because he was back to gazing fondly at Wilson. “He really is a great guy, Mom and Dad,” he declared.

Susan nodded and looked to Don, who looked at House, as if wanting his endorsement. House was tempted to give the emperor’s thumbs down, denying Gladiator Jay his reprieve, but was swayed by the trying-not-to-be-desperate appeal in Wilson’s eyes. That, and the awesome stories this whole debacle would undoubtedly spawn in the future.

“Yeah, he’s a great guy,” House admitted, clapping Wilson heartily on the shoulder. “Ask any of the nurses.”

Wilson’s smile grew strained, but he gamely shook hands with Don, squeezed Chris’s arm, and escorted the Thompson family out the door.

Grinning, House took a seat at the conference table and propped his feet up. It only took a few minutes for Wilson to return – obviously had decided to leave them at the elevators and risk them actually talking to one of the nurses. Probably the safer move, given the risk of House random dialing hospital extensions to spread the news.

When he saw House at the table, far away from the phones, Wilson sighed in relief. “So,” he said.

“So,” House replied, still smirking. “How long have you been batting for the other team?”

Wilson grasped the back of another chair and leaned into it. “I’m still on my old team, too; it’s not a permanent trade,” he replied. “I’ve been, um, watching this team play since high school, but this is the first time I’ve suited up.” He gave House a sidelong glance and then returned his gaze to his hands.

“Any particular reason you picked a rookie to throw to you on your first at bat?”

“Um,” Wilson equivocated. “You seemed to be chummy with Chris’s father.”

House laughed. “Knew him in college and haven’t talked to him since. Until he happened to be wandering through the lobby as the collie on amphetamines was racing around trying to find his boyfriend.”

“The what?” Wilson looked honestly confused.

Raising an eyebrow, House replied, “Chris was, shall we say, eager to show off his sugar daddy to Mom and Pop.”

Wilson straightened and looked down his nose at House. “One thing I am not is a sugar daddy. Between alimony and your leeching, I’ve got enough mouths to feed. I wasn’t even going to tell Chris I was a doctor. He knew I worked at the hospital, but I think he thought I was a tech.”

“Nurse, according to Don.”

Rolling his eyes, Wilson replied, “Of course. What else would a gay man do at a hospital?”

“Gay? You said it, quote, wasn’t a permanent trade.” House smirked and tilted his chair back. This was getting better all the time.

Wilson’s hands went to his hips. “It’s not! But Chris might possibly have had the impression that perhaps I’ve never been with any other team, so…”

“You are such a dog.” House laughed and then drained the rest of his water. “You never answered my question about picking a rookie, though. You can spill. It’s been decades since I saw Daddy Dearest; there’s no way I’ll be seeing him again for at least another decade. Unless of course, I’m best man at the Wilson-Thompson nuptials.”

Wilson groaned and covered his face with a hand. “Don’t even joke about that. I can’t believe you brought it up; now the thought’s been implanted in Chris’s mind and he’s never, ever going to forget.”

“I take it you haven’t bought the engagement ring yet?”

“Aren’t you the one who keeps telling me to slow down and not jump into commitments so quickly? In addition to being incredibly good in bed – stamina, enthusiasm, and oh so definitely not a rookie – Chris is a great conversationalist with a wide range of interests and fun to spend time with. I care about him. But…”

 _Dumbass_ , House thought, disappointed. “But, although pansies are good enough for intramural games, you’d only go to the World Series with the breeders.”

Formidable brows knitting, Wilson stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Continuation of the metaphor –”

“Yeah, I got that part.” Wilson rolled his eyes. “It’s the meaning underneath that’s hard to understand. I’m following your advice, House, and giving marriage a rest. Nothing’s ruled out for the future but for now, it’s intramural games all around. What do you care, anyway?”

House swung his feet off the conference table and planted them on the floor. As he clutched his cane tightly and dug it into the carpet, he found he couldn’t quite meet Wilson’s eyes. He hadn’t thought he’d ever be telling Wilson this, but now that the issue was floating right in the middle of his strike zone he had to take the swing. “Just because you haven’t seen me in the locker room yet doesn’t mean I’m not on the roster.”

Wilson’s laughter startled House. _What the hell?_ He looked up to see Wilson’s eyes alight. “I was wondering,” Wilson said, “why you didn’t start off with an interior decorating dig.” Ignoring House’s glare, he continued nonchalantly, “You know, Chris has this friend Dex who’s got a thing for guys going gray. I could put in a word for you.”

“And then we’ll double date down at the mall? Get smoothies and blow our allowance at the arcade?”

“Why so scornful? You love the arcade; no metaphor required.” Wilson’s grin had turned sly, and House knew he was thinking that now he was safe. That House’s admission was some kind of protection from House spreading Wilson’s news.

House scowled. “Don’t you have rounds, Jay?” he snapped, and Wilson sauntered off.

Smiling quietly, House rolled his chair across the floor and reached for the phone. It was highly amusing how, even after all these years, Wilson still underestimated him. “Melissa?” he purred into the phone. “Quite a shock, wasn’t it? I know, I know. Oh, I’m sure he’d love to join the hospital diversity committee…”


End file.
